


Borametz

by Hermit9



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9313844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermit9/pseuds/Hermit9
Summary: Vignette set in the lost year in Purgatory.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for the r/fanfiction monthly challenge.
> 
> The Random Words aren't going anywhere  
> Injury, Feed, alphabet (use 2/3)
> 
> Many thanks to [FestiveFerret](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret) for the beta!

Light in Purgatory was flat and grey; it leeched color and life from everything. It never changed. There were no clouds, no storms. And yet the boundless woods were always sodden from unseen rain, branches heavy and mud sticking wetly against their boots. The upside of it was that the blood running stickily down Dean’s leg was only making his jeans wetter and darker. It wasn’t bright red on his hand, so his brain wasn’t sending as many alarms as it probably should.

Dean groaned and shifted, trying to tighten the belt around his thigh, hoping to slow the seeping of blood from the **injury**. The mostly dead, hollowed out tree was almost dry and nearly warm. It smelled of sap and sawdust, comforting Earth-like scents. Maybe he could sleep a bit and when he’d wake up Sam would be… No, no, bad plan. Sleeping alone was a bad plan. Benny or Cas should be back for him, soon.

He was warming up to the vampire. Benny was good in a fight and had quick wits as they walked and prowled. He didn’t ask why Dean was so focused on finding the angel, and he was grateful for that. Some things could not be put in words without being broken and sullied. Dean had already damned Castiel enough, he would not add more. 

Benny came back, a mass of leaves and twigs draped across his shoulders. 

“Oh, come on, man. Tell me you’re not on the salad team.” Dean’s complaint wasn’t the best he ever came up with, but he could chalk that up to the blood loss. 

“Nah, brother. Got you something good. When the angel gets here we’ll make a fire and get you warm.”

“Isn’t that reckless?”

“Not more than having you go in shock.”

“Yeah, ok, fine.” Dean watched for a while as Benny knelt with his back to him, as he gutted and skinned the thing he had brought over. Under the leaves was a strangely translucent flesh. The vampire worked quickly with the chiseled flint and obsidian blades, breaking down his catch and making it look easy. The squelching sounds were only somewhat nauseating. The wraith’s venom was making his head swim again; he could swear the blood of the thing was a muted dirty gold and smelled of honey. He closed his eyes, uneasy. 

The wraith had been pissed. It was old, old enough to be able to avoid alerting both Benny and Cas. That was impressive enough with Cas, but the angel was keeping himself under wraps to minimize the fact that he was a bonfire of grace in a place bereft of any of his Father’s love. Slipping past Benny was the frightening thing. The vampire had sharp senses and was used to both hunting and being hunted. Sometimes it felt like he had been made from the fabric of this place. The wraith hadn’t cared for either of them, it had gone straight for Dean. It didn’t want to **feed** , it wanted to hurt and envenom and play with its prey...

“Hey, Benny. I have a question. I know not eating is part of Cas’ angel schtick, but what about you?” Dean leaned on the tree to try to ground himself, shaking his head a bit against the unrelenting dizziness. “Don’t you get hungry?”

“Nah. This place… there’s no hunger, no sleep. Just hunting and tracking and the thrill of the kill.” He turned to look over his shoulder and winked. “Not saying that you don’t smell damn good right now, but it’s not the same as top side.”

Dean remembered the sound of blood rushing through Sam (and Lisa, and _Ben_ ) and swallowed a few times. He believed it. There was no way anyone feeling that bloodlust would be as calm as Benny was right now. 

“Ok. But why do I sleep and eat and all that good stuff?”

“Because you are alive. And human.” Cas’ voice was rumbling and deep. Also surprising. Dean hadn’t heard him walk up to the makeshift camp. “This plane was made to host dead souls of monstrous creatures. Your presence is anathema to its nature and it cannot sustain you.”

He dropped an armful of kindling next to Benny before sitting down next to Dean. He untied the bundle (made from a dead man’s shirt) that had been slung across his shoulder and handed Dean his flask.

“Here. Water. Drink.”

The water was ice cold sliding down his throat; he was probably running a fever. Dean eyed the mushrooms and roots and leaves in the bundle with distrust. 

“Benny’s food plan looks better.”

Cas looked at him with his curious, bird-like head tilt. “Yes. The vegetable lamb is a good choice.”

Dean frowned at that, confused and feeling betrayed. 

“But,” Cas continued, “it isn't sufficient alone. So you will eat more Dean.” He had his _soldier of God_ tone, the one that was used to being obeyed. 

“You’re not going to let me out of that one, are you?”

“No, I am not.”

As it turned out vegetable lamb tasted like catfish: like slightly muddy water and fat. It was not half-bad, even if it still sounded made up. The mushrooms Cas browbeat him into eating were satisfying and the roots were a bit sweet. Dean had not felt this warm and full since they landed in this forsaken place. 

At some point his jeans had been peeled off him and more of the cold water splashed on his leg to wash the wound. Cas had crushed his leaf collection and applied it to the nasty looking stab site, and Dean had to admit the pain was getting better. He was leaning against Cas, the angel’s arms around him as he tried to wrap them both in his coat, trapping Dean between his body heat and the dying embers of the fire. It was comforting, though the stiff matted dirt on Cas’ coat and hospital scrubs made his heart ache in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely. Benny was sitting on the other side of the fire, keeping watch, and every so often the wood would spark and Dean would catch a good look at his face. There was pain and longing in his eyes. It was well hidden. Most people probably wouldn't have caught it. He looked lonely. Guarding the two of them against the monsters in the dark because that was the best he could offer, out on the edges. Not even questioning the closeness Dean had with Cas... 

Of course. He was an idiot not to have seen it sooner. Dean felt the need to bash his head against a wall and settled for hitting Cas’ chest. Same difference, except walls were usually cleaner and weren't trying to infuse him with near homeopathic amounts of grace to promote healing. And they didn't chirp in concern in a way that made his back and neck tingle in a not unpleasant way.

“Dean? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Slow, but fine.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean patted his arm reassuringly. He wasn’t about to move, not that he’d admit to it but he was actually comfortable. The venom was winding down, leaving him pleasantly buzzed. In his mind, he went over the layout of all the vampire nests he’d raided. The sleeping quarters were always communal. Vampires weren't hardwired as loners.

“Benny?” Dean waited until the other man turned his attention towards him. “You don’t have a nest here, do you?”

“No. Haven’t had one since the old man had me killed.”

Dean nodded. Yeah, that would explain it. “Come here, man.”

“I don’t have much body heat to share, brother.”

“Don’t care. You’re windproof. And you can keep my leg elevated. Or something.” He paused and glanced up to Cas, who was smiling softly. “And Cas won’t mind. Dude never had a proper sense of personal space anyways.”

Benny raised his eyes to meet Castiel’s, trying to read something there before moving carefully over. He draped Dean’s injured leg over his lap, one hand resting softly on his calf while the other still held his weapon in a firm grip. But a line of tension eased from his shoulders. Cas chuckled low, barely a vibration against Dean’s back as he squeezed his shoulder gently, where his mark had once been.

“ _This is nice_ ,” Dean thought, as he finally surrendered to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> A Vegetable lamb is a thing! 
> 
> The Vegetable Lamb, or Lamb-Tree, was a popular myth of the Middle Ages that described a live lamb growing from a very special plant. It was believed to come from a vast region of Europe and Central Asia known then as Tartary, which gave the Vegetable Lamb one of its many alternate names, Borametz, which was the Tartar word for "lamb".
> 
> See more about the myth [here](https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/running-ponies/animal-or-vegetable-legend-of-the-vegetable-lamb-of-tartary/).


End file.
